


15

by yours_eternally



Series: Feb-u-whump 2021 [16]
Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Broken Bones, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Can you like—’ Corey says, drops his eyes down, uncrossing his hands and resting them on his thighs instead. Mick stares at him nonplussed.‘I can’t like—’ Corey lifts his hips. ‘Y’knowjerk off.’ Mick feels his mouth drop open.‘Dude, it’s been like a day,’ is all he can think of to say.Corey gets injured and needs a helping hand from Mick.
Relationships: Corey Taylor/Mick Thomson
Series: Feb-u-whump 2021 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137497
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22
Collections: febuwhump 2021, yours_eternally's Febuwhump 2021 Collection





	15

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is "Broken bones"

Mick opens the door, holding it until Corey trots past him. He’s silent and pale, and it makes Mick sort of awkward to look at. He’s not used to Corey acting like a human rather than a cartoon character. Mick lets the door close, dumping Corey’s shit on the end of the bed he’s flopped onto before setting his own bag at the end of the other. 

‘Let’s go down to the bar,’ Mick says, glancing at where Corey’s on the bed. He’s got his hands crossed over his chest like he’s been laid out to be buried. Mick snorts at him. 

‘C’mon, man,’ he says, not sure if Corey’s taking the piss or if the pain meds are making him dopey. Corey grumbles, opening his eyes and squirming against the mattress.

‘I’m just gonna crash, man,’ Corey says, rolling onto his side away from Mick. 

‘Okay,’ Mick says but he doesn’t move. He looks at the slope of Corey’s shoulders. He feels like there’s something heavy in his stomach. 

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, scuffing his boots in the carpet. Corey had fallen — the day before yesterday — down, hard on both wrists. Twin fractures in the tiny bones; plus four fingers, three on one hand and the pinky on the other. He hadn’t let anyone touch him until it was nearly four am and both his hands were swollen and purple. Their tour manager had driven him to the ER. He’d come back, hands bound and surly, having refused a plaster cast. He’s slept their entire travel day yesterday and most of today. 

Mick doesn’t think he’s going to answer but then he sees his shoulder lift in a shrug. 

‘Itches,’ Corey says, huffing and rolling onto his back. 

‘Yeah?’ Mick says, scratching the back of his head. He can see Corey’s got his t-shirt pushed up around his ribs where he’s been wriggling on the bed. His jeans are low on his hips showing the loose elastic on his underwear. Mick averts his eyes, not sure why the hell he’s looking. 

‘Like, I can’t even—’ Corey says, arching his back off the bed. He shifts his hips. Mick’s eyes drop to his waistband again. He can see the smooth, untanned skin below Corey’s navel. He needs to get out of this room. He needs a fucking drink. 

‘I’m gonna bounce,’ Mick says, but he doesn’t move. Corey’s looking at him now, unexpectedly clear eyed. Corey licks his lips. 

‘Can you do something for me, man?’ Corey says, eyes on Mick’s face. ‘Like a favour? A big favour?’ 

‘Sure,’ Mick says, stepping back over to him assuming he wants something from his bag. 

‘Can you like—’ Corey says, drops his eyes down, uncrossing his hands and resting them on his thighs instead. Mick stares at him nonplussed. 

‘I can’t like—’ Corey lifts his hips. ‘Y’know _jerk off._ ’ Mick feels his mouth drop open. 

‘Dude, it’s been like a day,’ is all he can think of to say. His mind is cartwheeling, and he kind of can’t stop looking at the dark blond line of hair leading a trail from below Corey’s navel into his underwear. 

‘It won’t go away— been hours,’ Corey whines, twisting to look at him and spreading his thighs so Mick can’t help but see the now very obvious bulge in his jeans. 

‘Fuck man, think about dead puppies or some shit,’ Mick says but his mouth is suddenly dry and his palms tingling. Corey sighs. 

‘I _can’t_. It _hurts_ ,’ he complains, shifting, ‘I can’t like—’ Corey flexes his hand and winces. Mick knows he should turn on his heel and walk out of the room right that second. But he doesn’t move. Corey rolls his head to look at him and Mick cracks, walking over to the bed and sitting down. 

‘Just don’t talk, okay?’ Mick says gruffly as he sits. Corey nods. His eyes are big and round like he can’t believe Mick had agreed to it. 

Mick’s sitting next to him, with Corey still laying on his back with his sneakers on the carpet. Mick puts a hand on his stomach, feeling him breathing. Mick shifts on the bed and then moves his hand lower. Mick awkwardly unbuttons Corey's jeans. Corey’s skin is warm, and it’s not like the mechanics of a hand job are a mystery to him. 

Corey makes a soft noise when Mick’s hand closes around his dick. Mick strokes him once and then again, and Corey moans; properly moans, long and loud. And Mick’s suddenly hyper-aware of his own cock in his jeans. Fuck _no_. 

‘Shut up, man,’ Mick says tightly, as he starts to stroke Corey as best he can inside his underwear. His hand is pretty dry but he figures that’s a Corey problem. He’s not taking Corey’s dick out to get it wet. He’s not sure he could live with the image of his own hand jerking off Corey’s perfect, pink cock. Corey moans again, biting his lips but barely muffling the sound. Mick feels a hot twist in his guts. Fuck this. 

He brings his other hand across his body and reaches to cover Corey’s mouth. Corey grunts, eyelashes flickering as Mick continues jerking him off with short, rough strokes. Mick can feel Corey licking at his palm so he presses two fingers into Corey's mouth to give him something to suck instead. Corey gives a slurred whine, hips twitching up. 

‘You like that, huh?’ Mick says pressing a little firmer on his tongue, before remembering he’s dirty talking to his bandmate. But then he’s already got his hand on his dick so it barely seems to matter. Corey makes a noise in his throat. Mick can feel his cock throbbing against his sweating palm. 

Corey makes another muffled, desperate sound, licking and sucking at Mick’s fingers, mouth working as he fucks his hips up into Mick’s hand. Then Corey gives a long, slurred moan and Mick feels his cock pulsing. He can feel Corey coming over his fist. Mick strokes him through it until Corey gasps, pulling back.

Mick takes his hands back, both wet with come and saliva. Mick gets up and goes to the bathroom to rinse them, ignoring the fact he’s half-hard and can feel a blush creeping up his throat. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Corey’s somehow managed to strip off and wriggle under the hotel sheets. Both of his hands propped on a pillow beside his head. As Mick moves over to him, he can hear him snoring softly. Mick snorts, although he’s relieved the awkwardness can wait until the morning. 

He snags his cigarettes from his bag and slips from the room. He turns towards the hotel elevator, taking a breath. Now he _really_ needs a fucking drink. 

**Author's Note:**

> I _really_ like this "can't jerk off" trope and I write it a lot 😅
> 
> [yours-eternally-ao3](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yours-eternally-ao3) on tumblr


End file.
